


Slow Burn

by Aurum



Category: Hajime no Ippo | Fighting Spirit
Genre: M/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 07:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10239281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum/pseuds/Aurum
Summary: Ippo's new training makes life very hard for Miyata.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to thank George for Ippo's slow slow _slow_ training, and especially for neatly confirming my porn headcanons with the line: "He follows directions a little too well." (Set around chapters 1157-1161, but this note is as spoilery as it gets.)

Miyata is dying.

It's not even a quick and merciful death, which by all rights he should've earned when he went through the fires of hell in Thailand. No, this is torture he couldn't have imagined before, worse than going ten rounds in the ring with a bulldozer.

But maybe he does deserve this after all, because if by some miracle he comes out of this alive, he's going to kill someone. Specifically the person who came up with Ippo's new training. There's a lot Miyata would forgive in the name of training, a lot he's already had to forgive himself, and normally he wouldn't begrudge Ippo growth and progress, but god, not at this cost.

Ippo reaches the end of his internal countdown and starts thrusting in again, the slide of his cock smooth and steady and unbelievably, painfully slow. Miyata doesn't count the seconds (or minutes, or hours) it takes him to bottom out, because he honestly doesn't want to know. He concentrates on keeping his breathing steady, because it seems like every time it so much as hitches on an inhale, Ippo startles himself into stillness. Every time he starts moving again, it's just a little bit slower, and the prospect is unthinkable when it already feels like Miyata's being fucked by a glacier.

Maybe he falters in the rhythm of his breathing, or maybe he grits his teeth hard enough to make noise, because Ippo's eyes jump to his face, wide and apologetic. "I'm sorry, Miyata-kun," he says for the hundredth time, but thankfully starts pulling out again. "I really want to go faster, I do, it's just that I—" He trails off, his breath stuttering almost on a sob.

It's just that he can't, he needs to move very slowly and carefully. Miyata's heard this a hundred times already as well, and at first it made him feel a bit sympathetic. At least he's not suffering alone, and Ippo's obviously having trouble with the pace too, the hand gripping Miyata's hip trembling slightly with withheld tension even as he eases his cock out of Miyata in one fluid movement.

The shared misery probably should make this easier to take. It doesn't.

Each of the hundred times before Miyata made himself unclench his jaw and utter some thin reassurance, pushing _'It's okay'_ past his lips with great effort, but that's lost all sincerity by now. It's not okay, it's really not alright, and in this moment he decides that he can't take another second of this torment, not when a second feels like an hour or a day or a year. This ends now.

He opens his mouth to stop Ippo from torturing them both, but then inspiration strikes, a spark of an idea so obvious he should've thought about it in the first place. The anticipation of relief flushes all else out of his mind, so when the word slips out, it's breathless rather than barked in irritation. "Wait."

Ippo grinds to a halt with a confused whine, probably ready to spill more apologies, but Miyata's on a mission now. He grabs Ippo by the shoulders and pushes him off and to the side. Ippo goes without protest, lets Miyata push him down on the bed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"It's just that _you_ can't move too fast, right?" Miyata asks, not waiting for a reply before he throws his leg over Ippo to straddle him.

"Y-Yes? Miyata-kun, what—"

"Okay then," Miyata says absently, his mind already two steps ahead. He reaches for Ippo's cock to guide it back inside, and slams his hips down.

It's not exactly good, really — the sudden drag of friction is too much too fast, but after ages of _not enough_ , it feels more like relief. Breath leaves Miyata's lungs in a hiss through his teeth as he rises up to do it again. Ippo makes a strangled noise and his hips snap up to meet Miyata's this time, his body catching up before his brain does.

Miyata lets out a huff, almost a laugh, his fingers curling where he's leaning on Ippo's chest, as if grasping for purchase. "Weren't you supposed to avoid sharp movements?" he says, a little mean with the remnants of his recent frustration, his head swimming a bit from the change in sensation.

Ippo's breath hitches on a wounded sound and he falls still under Miyata. For a moment Miyata's too busy finally taking what he's been denied earlier to notice what's off about it, but then he slows to a stop as realization dawns on him with a chill.

It would be okay (if a bit disappointing) for Ippo to leave all the work to Miyata, but not like this. It's a painful kind of stillness, Ippo's knuckles white where he's clenching the sheets. He's biting his lip hard as he concentrates on keeping still through sheer force of will. Miyata recalls his own words with a wince of sympathy and guilt. This is not meant to be a punishment, but rather the opposite.

"Hey, hey," Miyata says softly. He puts his hand on Ippo's cheek, waiting for Ippo's eyes to focus on his face. "It's okay, you can move. I wasn't serious."

He falls to his elbows, his back curving as he fits his mouth to Ippo's, trying to coax Ippo's lower lip from between his teeth. After a moment Ippo's mouth opens on a stuttered sigh, the strain thawing out slowly. Miyata hums in encouragement and gently sucks Ippo's lip between his own, swiping his tongue over the soft inside in apology. Finally tension melts out of Ippo in one fell swoop as he returns the kiss with a slick slide of his own tongue.

"Okay?" Miyata asks once he's drawn back, blinking his eyes open to look down at Ippo.

Ippo swallows thickly, his lips glistening faintly, eyes trained on Miyata with unwavering focus. "Okay, Miyata-kun," he says quietly.

Miyata lifts himself up so he's mostly sitting up over Ippo again, and then raises his hips up slowly, still caught in the careful mood and in Ippo's gaze. Ippo sucks in a breath, then lets it stutter out when Miyata slides back down over his cock. But Ippo's still not moving, even if it doesn't look like his control is hanging by a thread anymore. Miyata frowns a little. "Come on," he says, trying to sound encouraging rather than impatient.

He moves again, and this time Ippo follows, rocking his hips up to meet Miyata's downward movement. "Yeah," Miyata sighs, his eyes sliding closed for a moment, "that's good."

Ippo, always quick to respond to direction, does it again. And again, thrusting up a bit harder, the friction of his cock inside Miyata sending sparks of sensation up his spine. Miyata's approving hum gets cut off in half when his mouth falls open on a quiet gasp.

It's clear that Ippo's still holding back, but that's probably a good thing. If he left his strength unchecked, Ippo could throw him off with ridiculous ease, and Miyata would hate to end up with a concussion before he gets to come at long last.

Ippo squeezes his eyes shut, but opens them again quickly, his gaze snapping back to Miyata like he can't decide if it's more difficult to watch him or not. Miyata's found himself watching through his eyelashes as Ippo moved over him enough times before to know the feeling, but curiously it's different this time. Maybe it's the position, his new vantage point on top, or maybe Ippo's managed to slowly but surely fuck all the embarrassment out of Miyata, but either way it's easier to look now as they move together to build up a rhythm.

Honestly, Miyata probably spends too much time watching Ippo — he's been doing it for years, even before he figured out what it meant — but looking at Ippo now is different from watching him at any other time.

There's a lot to see in the ring with Ippo bare from the waist up, but that's about boxing, about how each muscle contributes to his victory. If it's hot (and okay, it is), that's not the point, but rather a side effect of Miyata's ridiculous Makunouchi-shaped problem. Out of the ring Ippo dresses and carries himself like a stronger breeze could knock him over, all his strength hidden under stretched-out shirts and silly smiles.

But here it's just them, and framed by Miyata's spread thighs is solid proof that Ippo's chest looks like it was sculpted from fucking marble. It feels like it too under Miyata's hand when he trails his touch from Ippo's shoulder down to his abs, to feel them work as Ippo brings his hips up to meet him. Miyata huffs in fleeting annoyance at all of Ippo's loose t-shirts, the barrier making it hard to appreciate all of him — but that doesn't matter now that Miyata's got Ippo where he needs him, where there's nothing between them to stop him from looking and touching and taking.

And yet, even though he took control intending to make it a race to the finish, somehow he's ended up taking his time. Miyata narrows his eyes for a second, but well, this is actually not bad at all. There's a world of difference between leisurely fucking himself on Ippo's cock and whatever Ippo was attempting earlier, with speed more suited for continental drift. That was an exercise in frustration, but now there's heat pooling low in Miyata's stomach, pleasure rising up in a steady flow. It's easier to delay his release on his own terms, when he can make sure it will come eventually.

"See, this is slow enough, right?" He punctuates it by dragging out the rise up the impressive length of Ippo's cock, feeling the strain in his thighs for a moment before he takes it in again. Maybe there is something to be said for Ippo's slow training after all.

"Yes, Miyata-kun," Ippo says, probably agreeing on autopilot. He swallows, his throat working visibly as he puts his hand on Miyata's thigh, the touch trailing up haltingly. "Um, can I...?"

He stops halfway, as if there's any need to be shy about touching Miyata when he's had his cock up Miyata's ass for what feels like a decade now. "Sure," Miyata says, amused, and grabs Ippo's hand to move it to his own ass.

"Oh," Ippo breathes out. He hesitates, but then he lifts his other hand to join the first one and blinks up at Miyata. "Wow."

Miyata's laugh is a little breathless, but it still sounds stupidly fond to his own ears. He leans down, carding his fingers through Ippo's hair to tilt his head for a kiss. He presses his lips to Ippo's partly to shut himself up, and partly just because he can. It messes up their rhythm, but Ippo has no complaints, just moans softly into his mouth as he kisses back eagerly.

Finally Ippo breaks away with a gasp, panting for a moment as he tries to catch his breath. "Miyata-kun, I'm gonna— ah—"

"Yeah?" Miyata says, wet lips curving up on a flash of delight. He pushes himself back up for a better view. "Go ahead."

Ippo stares up at him in surprise, as if coming is a novel concept. Miyata huffs quietly and sinks down on Ippo's cock, taking it in as deep as he can, his eyes fluttering closed at the fullness. He rolls his hips and _oh_ , that's good too. Ippo agrees, judging by the way he chokes out Miyata's name, his fingers clenching on Miyata's ass in involuntary reaction. Miyata tightens around him and drags his hand up Ippo's chest, his fingers catching on a taut nipple, and Ippo squeezes his eyes shut, his mouth falling open on a groan as he falls over the edge with that last push.

Ippo's release works like a trigger, knocking the air out of Miyata as a wave of something like pride, but hotter, sweeps over him in a rush. He takes a shaky inhale and rides the swell of sensation, pressing blunt nails against warm skin and rocking his hips slowly as Ippo shudders through the aftershocks. Finally the last of the tension melts out of Ippo with a sigh of bone-deep satisfaction, and then there's no more delaying, just heat spilling over into urgency as Miyata reaches for his own cock.

The first touch has him biting off a groan, but before he can stroke himself more than once, there are knuckles bumping against his hand. "Oh, I can..." Ippo says, his eyes still hazy with pleasure but fixed on Miyata.

Miyata knows better now than to let Ippo set the pace, but maybe he doesn't need to. He grabs Ippo's hand and puts it on his cock, wrapping his own fingers around it and guiding it quickly up and down the length. And it's the best idea — now there's Ippo's big hand around him, moving just like Miyata wants it to, and the heat pooled inside him rises up like the tide.

Ippo watches their hands slide over Miyata's cock, and then he squeezes his fingers lightly and swipes his thumb over the head, peering up at Miyata's face. Miyata's past words now, but Ippo correctly takes the strangled noise as encouragement of his efforts, and then it's just seconds before Miyata's coming, pleasure crashing over him in waves as he spills hotly over Ippo's chest.

The sight of his come painting stripes on Ippo's flushed skin draws a broken groan out of Miyata, sends blood roaring in his ears. He sways forward, and he has just enough reason left to tilt to the side so he lands face first into the pillow next to Ippo's head. For a moment there's just him panting wetly against the fabric, and then Ippo turns to bury his face in Miyata's neck, his cheek brushing over sweat-slick skin. Miyata shivers as Ippo's hand trails up his back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine.

They stay like that for a long moment as Miyata catches his breath, his orgasm ebbing away to leave him pleasantly lethargic in the afterglow. Finally Ippo sighs against Miyata's neck, his breath raising goosebumps on Miyata's skin. "I'm sorry, Miyata-kun," he says quietly. "I couldn't... you had to..."

"No, it's good," Miyata says, heaving his head up from the damp pillow. He drops a kiss on Ippo's cheek, then on his lips, lingering there for no other reason than to enjoy the feeling. "You're just gonna have to let me do most of the work for a while, okay?" It's hardly a problem. The sex is by far the best part of Miyata's workout routine.

Ippo blinks up at him with heavy eyelids. "Okay," he agrees, his lips stretching into a sleepy smile.

Miyata pushes himself up to slip off Ippo's softened cock and unfolds his legs with a sigh of relief. Ippo reaches for Miyata like he's missing his touch already, sliding one hand around Miyata's neck and the other up his back, all the more affectionate now that he's loose and satisfied. Conveniently, Miyata has the same excuse for the way he lets Ippo pull him back down with no thought for protest. He settles half on top of Ippo, his arm thrown over Ippo's chest, and wrinkles his nose at the mess smearing between them.

They're both sticky with drying sweat and come, but Miyata can't muster up enough motivation to do anything about it now — not with Ippo's arms around him, a buzz of contentment and affection under his skin, and their heartbeats slowing as they slide closer to sleep. Cleaning up can wait until they're ready to move again.

And if they wake up stuck together, well, that won't be so horrible.


End file.
